


Pointe Shoes and Takeaway

by SpecsWritesStuff



Category: Axis Powers Hetalia, Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Something unfinished that I found in my drafts and decided to actually finish, artie’s a news reporter, fran’s a ballet dancer, it isn’t that good but it’s the thought that counts :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 03:51:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20333599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpecsWritesStuff/pseuds/SpecsWritesStuff
Summary: Francis is a dancer who fights with his instructor. Arthur’s supportive.





	Pointe Shoes and Takeaway

**Author's Note:**

> This is definitely rushed and probably has errors and inconsistencies! I started this in March and decided to finish it just to have something up this week :)

Thunk thunk thunk...click...thunk thunk...thunk-

“Francis! tu ne m'as pas entendu la première fois?” Francis huffed to himself, stopping mid turn to look back over at his instructor. She stomped over and grabbed his leg, pushing his left in front of his right “vous commencez à votre gauche! Combien de fois dois-je te dire?” 

He couldn’t argue so he nodded along. If she wanted him to start on his left so bad, he’d do it. Francis had been in the studio for three hours now, his costume making him sweat and feel heavier from the ridiculous amount of rhinestones up his arms and down his chest as he danced. His pointe shoes were starting rub harshly at the sides of his feet, even though he was used to it didn’t mean he enjoyed it. The music started over and Francis shifted his posture, putting his left leg in front of him. He went up on his toes, spun and came back down, all graceful movements with an expressive face as he was taught from a young age. Feathers fell out of his headpiece as he danced, the music stopping again followed by more shouts. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take tonight.

His instructor continued to grill him. Telling him how she expected perfection from him! ‘You have the stage to yourself for this dance, the crowd will notice every imperfection’, lord he’s heard that so many times now that her shouts make their way into his dreams at night. ‘You will not be leaving this studio until you have this perfect!’

Another hour passed before Francis had to excuse himself, needing a break from it all. He peeled his shoes off, tossing them on the floor carelessly (they were too broken in now, he’d need another pair) as he made his way to the bathroom, scooping his bag up as he went. There was a handicapped bathroom with its own lock, that’s the one he took, where his privacy was guaranteed. Francis hoisted himself up onto the counter and put his aching feet in the sink, letting the cold water sooth his blisters. 

He fumbled around in his duffel bag for his phone, sighing sadly as he typed.

‘Hey...I don’t think I’ll be home for dinner. Madame Blanche says I still don’t have my dance down so I have to stay late’ -delivered 5:37

Francis’ phone buzzed almost immediately 

‘I already got us takeaway. Do you want me to bring it over?’ - read 5:38

He thought about it for a minute or two...Francis had to admit...He was rather hungry. Sure, Chinese food wasn’t the best thing to eat before practicing jumps and such but...This was an opportunity for Arthur to come see him work, which was rare, and for Madame Blanche to lay off a little. She rarely yelled at him when they had someone watching them...Perfect

‘That sounds fantastic, my love. I’ll see you soon’ - delivered 5:42

‘I’ll be there in fifteen. I’m bringing ibuprofen and an ice pack’ -read 5:45

‘I love you so much :)’ -delivered 5:48

Francis smiled stupidly to himself, staying in the bathroom as long as he could before his instructors voice boomed down the hall. He let out a dramatic cry and got down from the counter, drying his feet off to trudge back into the studio.

—

Arthur arrived as Francis received yet another pair of pointe shoes. He got to sit beside him as his Frenchman broke his shoes in. He cracked the shoe and bashed the block against the floor. He scraped the bottom of the shoe until it was rough and sewed ribbon onto the back to tie around his ankles. So much work went into dance, Arthur didn’t know how Francis could do it. 

Arthur was a news reporter. Compared to Francis’ job, he barely did anything. It wasn’t hard to talk to thousands of people as long as he didn’t see them! He just talked to the camera to report raised taxes and crimes. But Francis danced in front of critics, theaters full of people. Arthur could never do such a thing. He got nervous for his lover, sometimes to the point where he was more nervous than Francis was! His hands would sweat and he’d bounce his leg obnoxiously as he sat in the crowd, always sitting as close as he could so his fiancé could see him among the unfamiliar faces. Of course, the blinding stage lights made it hard for Francis to see him in the first place but...oh its the thought that counts!

Arthur sat and listened as Madame Blanche talked. His inability to speak french made it hard to understand what the the were talking about. He was positive that the instructor talked only in French just to exclude him.

Just like that, Francis was back on his feet. He’d barely had any rice, chicken or egg rolls though Arthur had been hogging those. The beautiful music started up and Arthur watched in awe as his lover danced, heart fluttering in his chest. Only a minute in, the music stopped. He didn’t understand what the issue was, the routine looked perfect to him! 

Francis was starting to get agitated. He rarely did while at the studio, usually taking a scalding bath at home to simmer in his frustration. The chastising was getting old, it felt like he had been critiqued so much that he hadn’t even gotten all the way through the dance yet! Not once the whole day! He was almost embarrassed that he was being talked to this way in front of Arthur, not that he understood what was happening. 

“Madame! Je fais ce que tu dis! Vous me l'avez dit tant de fois!” He insisted, repeating the dip and turn to show her how he did it 

“Vous avez l'air si bâclée! redressez votre jambe!” Francis huffed did as he was told, straightening his leg out until it hurt, dipping and turning once again. She still wasn’t pleased.

The bickering continued. Arthur sat watching in utter bewilderment. Francis kept doing the same motion over and over, his instructor starting to raise her voice. As he finished the last egg roll, the pair started to shout and Arthur knew he had to stop in. He set his empty container aside and hurried to the other side of the room “Hey! Hey now, no need to shout. It’s been a long day, you’re both tired” 

Madame Blanche wrinkled her nose as him, horribly accented English spewing from her “Excuse me? I don’t get tired. I stay here and make sure these dances are perfect, as they should be. My studio is one of the best! I cannot have this- this lazy dancer!”

“Pardon?! I am not lazy! I’m doing everything you tell me! You don’t even let me finish two steps and you’re already back on my ass!” Francis huffed, angrily taking his shoes off 

“You are lazy! You went to ballet school back in francs for years and yet I have American students who dance better!”

“Yet you gave that solo to me! Because I know what I’m doing! If I danced exactly the way you wanted me to I’d look like a stuff mannequin! Ballet is fluid! Not jerky!”

Arthur was getting a headache now. He picked Francis’ shoes off the floor and took them back to his dance bag to tuck them inside. He cleaned up his mess from dinner, just barely managing to throw everything away before he was grabbed and yanked into the hall. Francis and his instructor switched back to french to continue their yelling. He was tugged along to the elevator, the shouts only stopping the elevator door separated them. 

Francis took his sandals out of his bag, dropping them on the floor to step into them, giving Arthur an apologetic look. He was obviously embarrassed...Arthur hadn’t seen anything like that in the studio before. 

“So...Are you...Do you still have the solo?”

“What? Yes, why wouldn’t I?”

“That was rather heated-“

“I deal with that every day” The elevator announced that they made it to the underground parking garage, the doors opening to set them free. Francis led him to his car where he sighed, resting his head on Arthur’s shoulder “I’m sorry...That was supposed go be fun...”

“I still had fun. I think your costume is lovely. A magnificent bird, you are” 

Francis shrugged, the rhinestones making their plastic-on-plastic noises “Thank you...I probably should have taken it off before leaving. I’ll be sure to bring it back in a bag tomorrow so it doesn’t snag...” 

The two chatted for awhile before Francis drove them home. They took the stairs up to the second floor and Arthur couldn’t help but feel bad as he watched his fiancé wince with pain. 

Before bed, the two had a cup of cocoa each and Francis insisted on watching Arthur’s morning report. He always recorded it if he wasn’t able to watch the whole thing. He gushed about how handsome he was, kissing his cheek with a dorky smile. Arthur blushed and looked away. 

When the time came for them to go to bed, Arthur didn’t even have time to tell Francis he loved him. His fiancé was already asleep, his hair in his face and a leg hanging out from under the covers. Arthur kissed his forehead and curled up beside him...dreaming of dancing and squawking birds.


End file.
